


To Best a Bat

by Hiilovetrash



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poetry, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:08:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiilovetrash/pseuds/Hiilovetrash
Summary: Just a bunch of poems about Batman's Rogue's Gallery.





	To Best a Bat

With a riddle it starts  
As most things do,  
With a few broken minds and hearts,  
And a big question of who.

The first time I tried cheating,  
I got myself a beating,  
And soon enough weeping,  
Became as natural as breathing.

Batman rises,  
I make my tokens and prizes.  
I pick my pawns I pick my tools,  
Yet all of us get played for fools.

Down a wrong path I trailed,   
I tried, I failed.  
My mind got too borken to mend,  
But the story didn't end.

A clown with a grin,  
Made the Bats head spin,  
He got under his skin,  
Assured us we would win.

A powerful drug  
Got swept under the rug.  
The woman payed the price,  
Her life ended with a slice.

Arkham Asylum rises,  
I make my tokens and prizes.  
I pick my pawns, I pick my tools,  
Yet all of us get played for fools.

I lose myself for the first time,  
In this twisted life of crime.  
And answering the big question,  
Becomes my twisted obsession.

A riddle forms again,  
I'm not really sure when.  
For help I am crying out  
Yet no one hears me shout.

Because Batman doesn't care, right?  
No one is that selfless, right?  
He is the one that believes  
That right is made by might,  
Right?

Along comes a strage man,  
Claims he has a plan.  
Says he knows the Bats face,  
Though I doubt that's the case.

Still Arkham City rises,  
I make my tokens and prizes.  
I pick my pawns, I pick my tools,  
Yet all of us get played for fools.

The Jokers dead,  
The Hatter said:  
"Off with his head!"  
The Bats hands are tainted red.

The nightmare from below,  
Stops laying low,  
And with a look of a crow,  
Plans his own puppet show.

And as my end draws nearer,  
The reflection in the mirror  
Makes it that much clearer.

I am not the man I was before.  
But if he wants a war,  
Let there be war.  
Leave the Bat squirming on the floor.

A City of Fear rises,  
I make my tokens and prizes.  
I pick my pawns, I pick my tools,  
Yet all of us get played for fools.

My riddle is answered,  
The big who revealed,  
And yet I had to yield,  
On this broken battlefield.

Another riddle forms  
As we get handed our orange uniforms.  
What to do now, when the Bats no more,  
Now that I can't settle my score?

I escape when the opportunity arises,  
I leave my tokens and my prizes,  
I leave my pawns and leave my tools,  
No longer part of the fools.

With a riddle it will end  
As most things do,  
With a broken mind and broken heart,  
And a simple question of who.


End file.
